Pacific Rim Uprising

In 2014 while writing about the Godzilla reboot, film critic David Ehrlich dubbed the Warner Bros. monster movie “the first post-human blockbuster,” suggesting that Hollywood had finally crafted a summer flick in which the puniness of the human characters was a feature, not a bug. “Here is a $160 million studio tentpole,” Ehrlich observed, “in which perspective stomps over plot, and characters are defined not by their actions, but by their insignificance.” Godzilla’s individual protagonists and their meager story arcs were nothing in comparison to the mighty havoc doled out by that towering beast—our job as audience members was simply to sit back and marvel at our new kaiju overlord.
A year earlier, director Guillermo del Toro presaged this new blockbuster reality with Pacific Rim, a giddy battle between big robots and big monsters in which human beings were barely periphery participants. Pacific Rim didn’t have much depth to it—the characters were dolts and the performances mostly cartoonish—but the film’s unabashed spectacle had its adolescent thrills, similar to when you smashed your toys into one another, reveling at the carnage.
Del Toro is only a producer and “visual consultant” for the sequel, Pacific Rim Uprising, which like its predecessor rarely brushes up against anything remotely human. Themes of grief, community, redemption and the tension between fathers and sons: All of them are merely waved at as the new film charges headlong into its next action sequence. Pacific Rim Uprising isn’t really interested in any emotional response beyond viewers muttering variations of “Badass!” or “Cool!” Here is a $150 million sequel in which bigness reigns supreme, and the characters are subservient to the tech. Watching this movie is to see a cinematic future in which the flesh and blood of human drama means very little.
The film is set 10 years after the mighty wars between Earthlings (equipped with their colossal Jaeger robots) and the fearsome Kaiju alien creatures. John Boyega plays Jake, the irresponsible son of Stacker (played by Idris Elba in the original), who bravely gave his life at the end of the first movie so that humanity could survive. Jake has descended into booze and partying because he couldn’t live with the burden of being his hero father’s son, but soon he’ll need to grow up when he’s brought back to the Pan Pacific Defense Corps so he can once again be a Jaeger pilot, a role he felt unworthy of taking up.
With shades of Top Gun, Star Wars and, of course, Godzilla, Pacific Rim Uprising positions Jake as your standard directionless hotshot who must get his act together—and who also has to help mentor some aspiring young Jaeger pilots, particularly the scrappy orphan Amara (Cailee Spaeny). We’re introduced to Nate (Scott Eastwood), a fellow hotshot Jaeger pilot who must work with Jake, even though they don’t much like one another. Several of the characters have tragic backstories, but director and cowriter Steven S. DeKnight (the man behind the Starz series Spartacus) renders them in perfunctory flashbacks or bland exposition—basically, as just messy, meaningless details that interrupt the smooth precision of his pristine, flashy digital effects.
As far as actual plot goes, what’s important to know is that a ruthless CEO (Jing Tian) has created a fleet of drone Jaeger robots, which will eliminate the need for human pilots. But in one of the movie’s faint attempts at asserting the importance of people, her perfect creations turn out to have major downsides, requiring Jake, Nate and Amara to save the day.